


One-Two Punch

by achievemenhunter



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Dom!Michael, M/M, Smut, slight infidelity, sub!Ryan, the Burnwood is only brief though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-09
Updated: 2015-08-09
Packaged: 2018-04-13 19:28:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4534407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/achievemenhunter/pseuds/achievemenhunter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ryan goes to the company party at Burnie's house and promptly gets himself into trouble.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One-Two Punch

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: "Ryan is like the biggest flirt ever, so it's only a matter of time before someone flirts back. someone takes that flirting too far (maybe Joel or Burnie?) and Michael and/or Gavin is not amused by this. bottom/submissive Ryan gets reminded who he belongs to." 
> 
> For some reason, Ryan as the bottom has never really been something that does it for me, but damn if I'm not here for subby top Ryan.
> 
> Also, I keep meaning to make these things shorter so that I can actually get through them all in a timely manner _and it keeps not happening_

Ryan stopped the car several numbers down from Burnie's house, the rest of the street already filled with cars. Music and laughter drifted softly towards him from the party as he made his way to the door.

 

Michael was already inside, he knew; the younger man would have arrived with Gavin and Meg over half an hour previous. He and Ryan were still keeping their relationship on the clandestine side of things. The only ones from their work that knew so far were Jack, as he'd always been the most perceptive of the bunch, and Gavin, whose inability to keep his nose out of things inadvertently led to Michael revealing the true nature of his feelings for Ryan.

 

Of course, both of them knew it would be impossible to hide it forever, and they did have every intention of telling the rest of their friends at some point. But for now, they were enjoying having themselves to themselves, and didn't want to spoil that intimate secrecy too soon. Besides, the clandestineness of their relationship was almost fun in a way, and they didn't want to lose the mystery there too quickly either.

 

He made his way to the door and knocked. Burnie opened the door for him, beer in hand, somehow managing to smile at Ryan despite being mid-swig. Ryan didn't doubt that he'd been greeting everyone who came to the door in a similar manner.

 

"Hey, man, glad you could make it!" Burnie said with genuine delight, slapping him on the back and drawing him into the house.

 

"Ah, well, I can't say no to you, can I?" Ryan replied with an affable grin, stepping in a little closer so that Burnie's arm settled naturally over his shoulder.

 

Burnie snorted. "You have often enough. You barely ever go to anyone's parties, what's up with that?"

 

With a sly smile, Ryan told him, "I guess no-one's asked as nice as you did before. Almost seems like you just wanted to be near me." His grin grew wider. "There something you want to admit to, Burns?"

 

Before Burnie had the chance to say anything else, Ryan slipped away with a laugh, and was rapidly absorbed into a conversation with Geoff, who loudly and mockingly proclaimed his surprise at seeing Ryan somewhere that wasn't work. Burnie quickly downed the rest of his bottle, pretending the pink in his cheeks was from alcohol.

 

"Ryan, you're actually at a party, oh my god," Geoff practically hollered, clutching at his chest as he staggered back in false shock. "That's rarer than Ray going out, and he doesn't even work with us anymore!"

 

"It's nice to see you out, Ryan," Griffin told him, rescuing the drink that Geoff was threatening to spill with his enthusiastic hand motions. She promptly swallowed most of it in one swig before handing it back. "Geoff's such a mother hen, he's worried that you don't get out enough, living on your own."

 

"My wife's lying," Geoff declared immediately, and for the first time, Ryan felt a pang of guilt about keeping his and Michael's relationship hidden. They had, in fact, been making plans to move in together, and Michael spent the majority of his time at Ryan's house already, so it wasn't really like he lived by himself anyway.

 

He opened his mouth to say something, but then Gavin came thundering through like the usual whirlwind of chaos that he was, all gangly limbs and too-big grin.

 

"Hello, lads," he said cheerfully. "Everyone's getting bevved up, I hope? 'Cept you, Rye, 'course. Hey, you know that there's some non-alcoholic punch over on the table in the living room? Meg made me try some, it's actually pretty bloody good."

 

Ryan smiled, bemused. "Maybe I'd better try some myself," he said, and removed himself from the conversation. His eyes roved around the room as he made his way to the two punch bowls set up on the table, searching for Michael. The redhead didn't seem to be anywhere in sight, though.

 

There was a sign taped to one of the punch bowls that read, _'This has no alcohol, keep it that way, you fuckers'_. Ryan chuckled quietly and scooped himself a cupful. While heading over had only been an excuse to search for Michael, he took a sip anyway, and was surprised to find Gavin's assessment of the drink was actually correct. He stood to one side, sipping at his drink as he made sure that he hadn't missed Michael in the crowd. It was always unbelievable how many people Burnie invited to this things. Ryan barely recognised half of them.

 

Soon he was down to the bottom of his cup, so he refilled and sauntered into the next room, where he was immediately waylaid by Meg and Ashley, who drew him into a conversation about the latest Game Club game they were playing. He could find no way to politely exit, so instead he gave in and talked with them a while, taking sips of his delicious punch as the girls bemoaned the fact that they'd seemingly managed to find all of the most agonisingly slow-paced games for Game Club. Ryan sheepishly admitted that he hadn't played more than fifteen minutes yet, which was met with melodramatic indignation and a cry of, "Ryan, we're filming Game Club _tomorrow_ , how dare you!" from Meg. Ryan shrugged and blustered and the girls laughed, obviously not actually upset.

 

Several minutes passed and Ryan started to feel a little light-headed and strange. The feeling grew rapidly from there, until the atmosphere was began to seem thick and hazy.

 

He needed air, the room was hot and loud and stifling and altogether too much.

 

Ryan excused himself with a mumbled apology, but when he took a step towards the door everything lurched just a bit. He blinked sluggishly, his brain taking several seconds longer that it should have to reach its conclusion.

 

Some motherfucker had spiked what was supposed to be the non-alcoholic punch.

 

He took a moment to wallow in the fact that he was such a pathetic lightweight to be drunk off only a few cups of punch, glumly resolving to stick with canned drinks only in the future. Then he got mad. He had principles, dammit, and someone else had just decided that that didn't mean anything.

 

With a scowl, he pushed his way through the room, passing through the door into the backyard. He stumbled slightly at the doorway, toes catching on the threshold, and he just got angrier. He took a wide berth of the people clustered on the patio, skirting around a water tank and retreating to the refuge of the small path that lead to the side gate of the house. Sighing, he leaned up against the brickwork, head tipped back and eyes closed. The bricks seemed to absorb some of the heat from his flushed skin, and he sighed again, relieved.

 

"Hey, you okay?"

 

Ryan's eyes cracked open to see Burnie to his right, red solo cup in hand and far more content with his intoxication than Ryan was.

 

"I'm drunk," he replied pitifully, suddenly feeling stupidly close to tears.

 

"It's a party, dude, you're s'posed to be drunk." Burnie grinned, draining his cup for emphasis.

 

"But I don't drink!" Ryan protested hotly. "Some asshole spiked the no-alcohol punch."

 

Burnie winced in sympathy. "Ah, that's rough, man. How bad is it?"

 

"Everything's spinning," Ryan mumbled, eyes starting to close again as he clumsily lowered himself into a seated position, back still to the wall and not caring that the grass was slightly damp against the seat of his jeans. The older man set down his empty cup and joined him, shoulders bumping. He patted Ryan's knee comfortingly.

 

"It'll pass. But that was a dick move of whoever did that. 'S not cool to make you drink if you don't want to. Hey, I'll sit with you a while, if you want," he added unnecessarily, but Ryan still seemed to appreciate the words.

 

Burnie stopped patting his knee, but kept his hand there, rubbing small circles into the denim with his thumb. Ryan hummed in the affirmative, leaning into the touch, head lolling to the right and breathing deep.

 

"You smell nice," the younger man murmured. Burnie slowly leaned in, inch by gradual inch, until their lips softly pressed together in a kiss.

 

Ryan let it happen.

 

What was more, he very quickly began to kiss back. The ground and the wall were actually quite cold, and Burnie was lovely and warm. It just made sense to kiss him, to cup his jaw with his hand, his inebriated mind told him. Besides, Michael obviously cared much more about socialising than the fact that his poor boyfriend had been stumbling around, drunk against his will. Hell, at this point he wouldn't be surprised if he found out _Michael_ was the one who spiked the punch bowl.

 

Now Burnie was starting to crawl on top of him, and Ryan spread his legs a little, one going flat against the ground to make it easier for the older man. Burnie knelt with one leg on either side of Ryan's thigh, knees pressed into the cool grass. He felt the damp seep in through his jeans and rapidly his knees began to ache. _I'm getting too old for this_ , he thought morosely, then stopped caring as Ryan's tongue pushed into his mouth, twining with his.

 

The younger man's actions were slightly clumsy, but nonetheless ardent, and his hand slipped around the nape of Burnie's neck, tangling in the short curls. One of Burnie's hands came up to stroke Ryan's cheek, the other going to his waist before quickly sliding down to his hip.

 

Something prodded insistently at the back of Ryan's mind, and his brow furrowed, pulling away from the kiss with a soft, wet sound. "Wait-"

 

"What the fuck is this, Ryan?" Michael's voice was icy, his furious figure outlined by the light from the party as he stood at the mouth of the side lane.

 

Burnie's head swung slowly between Michael and Ryan like a confused bear, before his alcohol-infused mind caught up with the situation and he realised what was going on. He clumsily scrambled backwards. "Michael, I didn't know you-"

 

Michael flicked his hand irately at Burnie. "Fuck off Burnie, I don't care. _Ryan's_ the one I'm fucking pissed off with."

 

The man in question cringed against the wall.

 

"He didn't know what he was doing, he was drunk, someone spiked the non-alcoholic punch!" Burnie protested on Ryan's behalf, staggering to his feet.

 

"So you just took advantage of him?" Michael retorted, eyes narrowing.

 

"Y- no, I didn't realise- I-I didn't know you two were together," Burnie replied lamely, eyes downcast and ashamed of himself.

 

Michael let out a growl. "Whatever. _Fuck off_ , Burnie. I mean it."

 

Obediently, the older man scurried back to the party, leaving Ryan to face Michael's wrath alone. The blond tried to make himself as small as possible as Michael strode towards him, towering over him.

 

"What the _fuck_ was that, Ryan?" he repeated softly.

 

"'M sorry." Ryan's voice was a quiet mumble, his eyelids seemingly incapable of lifting more than halfway up.

 

"You fucking better be. How drunk are you right now?"

 

Ryan's head lolled. "I think I need help to get up."

 

Michael sighed and it came out like a growl. "Alright, c'mon. I'm taking you home, we'll talk about this there." He hooked an arm under Ryan's armpit and heaved, struggling to pull the larger man to his feet. They staggered back to the patio, where Michael leaned Ryan against one of the exterior walls before shouting at the top of his lungs, "Alright, who's the motherfucker that spiked the non-alcoholic punch!"

 

There was a shuffling mumble, until finally Blaine muttered, "It's a party, the punch is supposed to make you drunk."

 

Michael moved across the space with more speed than Blaine expected, and he didn't have a chance to duck before Michael's fist was crunching into his jaw. Blaine fell back with a shout, and Michael shoved at him, sending him to the ground and nearly falling himself.

 

"Ryan doesn't drink, and now he's drunk because of you, fuckface!" Michael hissed, jabbing him finger at where Ryan was slouched against the wall. He turned away, disgusted, and ignored his throbbing hand as he wrapped his arm around Ryan's shoulder once more. "C'mon, we're going home," he told Ryan, leading him back inside. He made a pit stop in the kitchen to fetch Ryan a bottle of water, then took them both to the front door, stumbling slightly down the driveway. He bundled Ryan into the passenger seat of the car before clambering into the driver's seat. It was a little iffy whether or not he was actually good to drive - he hadn't been paying much attention to how much he'd been drinking, as he'd thought Ryan would be able to drive him home. In the end, he felt his anger had sobered him up enough to chance it, and he gripped the steering wheel tight as he peeled away from the curb. He handed the water over to Ryan and demanded he drink. Ryan obeyed. 

 

The older man was silent and demure for the duration of the trip, hands folded tidily in his lap. He kept his eyes downcast, refusing to meet Michael's every time that the younger man glanced over at him.

 

Neither of them said a word as the car slowed to a standstill on their driveway just over half an hour later. Ryan let himself out of the car only once Michael had already exited, trailing after the redhead as he headed for the front door. If Ryan had been a dog, his tail would have been between his legs, his shame was so palpable.

 

Michael continued wordlessly on to their bedroom. Ryan followed, and sat himself neatly on the end of the bed.

 

"What do you have to say for yourself?"

 

Ryan's shoulders twitched upward in an attempt to make his large frame seem small. "I'm sorry."

 

A hint of acerbity crept into Michael's tone. "I found you with Burnie pretty much on top of you, Ryan. You're going to have to do better than that."

 

The older man's eyes swam brightly, struggling to hold back tears. "I'm sorry," he whispered brokenly, fingers clenched so tightly around one another that his knuckles turned white.

 

"Am I not _good_ enough for you, is that it?"

 

Ryan's eyes went wide with alarm. "What? No-"

 

"Really? Why'd you go off and get drunk and start making out with fucking _Burnie_ , then?"

 

Ryan opened his mouth to protest that it hadn't been like that at all, but really, aside from not actually meaning to get drunk, it was. Alcohol was no excuse for him to start kissing someone else. He dropped his head in shame.

 

Michael reached out and grabbed his chin, forcing Ryan to look up. "You think he'd take better care of you than I do, is that what you think?"

 

"No, I-"

 

Michael switched his grip to a fistful of Ryan's hair, yanking the older man's head back. Ryan couldn't hold back a moan, pupils dilating and hands clamping around the edge of the mattress.

 

"You want him to bend you over, huh?" Michael snapped at him, unrelentingly playing his part, giving Ryan's upper thigh a hard squeeze. Ryan made a soft noise, bucking up slightly and already at half-mast.

 

"I don't-"

 

"Want him to make you his bitch?" Michael cut him off again, then sucked an aggressive hickey on the side of Ryan's neck. The older man thrust fruitlessly upwards again. "Or maybe you don't even care who it is. As long as you've got a fat cock stuffed up that slutty ass of yours, you don't care, is that it?"

 

Despite both of them knowing it wasn't something that Ryan was actually into, the younger man's domineering attitude just made Ryan even harder. Honestly, Michael could have been talking about making dinner, and as long as he used that particular tone of voice, it would have had much the same effect.

 

"N-no," Ryan stuttered, gasping and whining as Michael suddenly pressed his free hand against the older man's crotch.

 

"Really? Why are you so hard just from me talking about it, then?" the younger man snarled.

 

"It's for you, just for you," Ryan babbled, fingers white-knuckled as he obeyed Michael's unspoken order to keep his hands to himself.

 

"Maybe _I_ should fuck you for once," Michael growled. "Pound you into the mattress so hard you forget everyone's name except mine. Remind you who you belong to."

 

"Michael," he whimpered, hips jittering forward.

 

"Strip, Ryan. Now."

 

Instantly and obediently, Ryan began to pull off his clothing, not even the foreign sensation of undressing while under the influence slowing him down. Within seconds, he was naked.

 

"Back against the headboard," Michael ordered, and he scooted backward. Even though he knew Michael would never have pressured him into bottoming, Ryan still felt some of the tension in his shoulders release.

 

Without prompting, Ryan spread his arms out against the headboard. At either end, there was a soft, black leather cuff that had become a permanent fixture quite some time ago. Nodding just the slightest in approval, Michael moved onto the bed and deftly strapped Ryan in place, hands settling on the older man's chest.

 

"You gonna do as you're told?" Michael challenged, and Ryan nodded eagerly.

 

"Yes, Michael."

 

_"Good."_

 

Ryan let out a breathy groan as Michael grabbed hold of his cock, roughly pumping him to full hardness. It didn't take long.

 

The head of Ryan's cock was red and sensitive, precome seeping from the slit, and Michael pressed his thumb against it, swirling slow circles until Ryan was trembling with need, cock straining.

 

"Michael," he whimpered, legs twitching as he thrust upwards in small, pitiful jumps.

 

"Wait," Michael said suddenly, oozing an innocent sincerity that made Ryan tense up. "I totally forgot, you're drunk, aren't you? I wouldn't be a gentleman if I keep going before you sobered up a bit." So saying, Michael pulled away, forcing a sound pathetically close to a wail from Ryan. Michael grinned and hopped off the bed, making no move to untether Ryan from the headboard. "Let me know if you're still up for it in an hour, okay?" Ryan let out another weak noise of protest as Michael stuffed his hands in his pockets and sauntered from the bedroom, whistling to himself.

 

With a quiet click, the door shut behind him, and Ryan closed his eyes, hips still chasing the phantom sensation of Michael's hands stroking him.

 

If he really wanted to, Ryan could undo the cuffs himself, but the knowledge that Michael was leaving him to stew in his own arousal before coming back later to get him off kept Ryan from wanting to leave. If anything, he was harder now than he had been before, the denial leaving him helpless. He was acutely aware of every drop of sweat trickling down his spine, of the slight warm draft in the room that brushed teasingly against his cock, of the vestigial fog of his drunkenness slowly receding.

 

Time quickly ceased to have any meaning. It had been an eternity since Michael had left, and it would be another eternity before he returned. Ryan made the occasional low noise, hips jittering mindlessly and cock standing to aching attention. His head drooped against his chest, eyes hooded and unseeing, hands limp in their bonds. His mind drifted gently through subspace, everything warm and loose and painfully pleasant.

 

He was quite the picture when Michael finally returned, the younger man grinning crookedly at how far gone Ryan was. The blond lifted his head, but found it too much effort to keep it upright without support. Instead, he let his head tip back until it hit the headboard with an audible thunk, conveniently and subserviently exposing his neck. Michael zeroed in, crawling onto the bed and pinning Ryan's legs down with his own as he mouthed at the older man's throat. Ryan whimpered, hips spasming but not having any actual space to find relief.

 

"Who do you belong to, Ryan?"

 

"Mm- you, Michael, please, I love you," Ryan gabbled, sweat slicking his skin, the head of his cock an angry red from neglect.

 

"And who are you never, _ever_ going to even _think_ about kissing again?" Michael challenged, one hand on Ryan's hip in an effort to keep him still.

 

"Burnie, I won't kiss him again, I promise, it won't happen again, I won't even look at him-" Ryan swore blindly, eyes closed and brow furrowed in pent-up desire.

 

"Are you gonna be good for me? Only me?"

 

Ryan couldn't nod fast enough. "Please, I'll be so good for you, Michael, I want you so much-"

 

Michael pulled away from his neck and patted his chest. "Good boy," he said with a grin, and slid down Ryan's body, yanking the older man's hips forward so that his arms strained away from the headboard, then he took the head of the blond's cock into his mouth and began to suck. Ryan flung his head back and howled at finally, _finally_ getting some sweet contact, and quickly lost himself to the wonderful warmth of Michael swallowing him down. Overstimulation already threatened to overcome him, and he reveled in it, swamped by sensation as Michael moved between his legs. The only word he could seem to process was a pitiful cry of the younger man's name, and he called it out over and over, chest heaving and hips shuddering and fingers twitching. Michael kept him pinned to the bed by the hips, keeping his own movements slow and languorous in order to draw things out for as long as possible. He would glance up occasionally, chocolate eyes framed by chocolate lashes, and smirk around the cock in his mouth at the way Ryan's face was filled with hopeless desire. Even though the blond had now sobered up from his accidental intoxication, Ryan now felt like he was drunk on lust. The effects certainly seemed to be similar.

 

With a soft pop, Michael pulled off, planting a few open-mouthed kisses to Ryan's shaft before gently running his hand up and down the length of it. Ryan let out a low sound, head pressing almost painfully back against the headboard as Michael began suckling at his balls, tongue tracing over each in agonising detail. It seemed like the younger man was trying to map out the entirety of them with only the tip of his tongue, methodically sweeping back and forth before drawing the whole thing into his mouth and sucking. All the while, his hand continued its teasing ministrations, his touch too light to actually bring Ryan any closer to completion.

 

He pulled away and looked up at Ryan, who was so far gone that the blue of his eyes was barely visible.

 

"Hey, you okay up there?" he murmured, stilling all motion until Ryan managed to nod. The older man seemed to be edging onto the point of becoming listless, however, and Michael got back to work, sealing his mouth over Ryan's cock until the older man's hips were practically heaving.

 

Michael pulled off again, wrapping his hand around the older man's cock once more, and simultaneously taking hold of himself. Ryan twitched in Michael's grip, and Michael aimed Ryan's cock so that when he came, it landed messily on his own stomach. Ryan gasped his way through his orgasm, almost unseeing with pleasure as he finally got his release. He hummed slightly at the end of every harsh breath, starting to slow back to normal rhythms as Michael leaned back on his haunches and began to jerk himself off in earnest.

 

The older man watched him with an expression akin to reverent adoration, and Michael was convinced that his drunken dalliance would absolutely be a one-time thing. Michael smiled to himself, but also to Ryan, eyes lingering over the older man's muscular form. In the end, the way that Ryan was still spread out by the manacles on the headboard, the way he glistened from his own sweat and come clinging to his body, the way his breath still hitched on every other breath as he tried to get it back under control, proved far too erotic a picture for Michael to last very long. He gripped at Ryan's thigh with his free hand as he came, adding to the mess splattered across the older man's stomach.

 

"Fuck," he whispered quietly, grinning crookedly at how debauched Ryan looked before gathering himself and untethering the older man from the headboard. Ryan hummed in appreciation, arms flopping limply to the bed. Michael kissed his forehead. "Wait here," he said, before slipping away to the en suite.

 

"Not moving," Ryan mumbled after him. Michael returned moments later, a cup of water in one hand and a gently steaming hand towel in the other. He gave Ryan the cup to drink, and the older man sipped at it gratefully, restoring some of the moisture he'd sweated out. Michael gently worked the hot towel down Ryan's chest, mopping up sweat and semen, and placing occasional soft kisses on the older man's body. Ryan's eyes slipped closed and he hummed in appreciation as Michael rubbed him down until the heat had seeped from the towel. Michael tossed it to the side and Ryan reached out to pull him in, wanting the younger man close to him. They kissed deeply, but with love rather than lust, and Michael wrapped his arms around Ryan as best he could. He pulled back after a short while, resting his head against the older man's chest.

 

Neither of them said anything for a moment, then Ryan murmured, "People're going to figure it out now, aren't they? About us, I mean."

 

Michael made an indecisive noise, drawing random patterns on Ryan's chest with his index finger. "Well… maybe. I didn't make _that_ much of a scene."

 

Ryan let out a soft snort of disbelief. "You kind of punched Blaine."

 

"I did kind of do that," Michael acquiesced, and Ryan chuckled, the sound reverberating through both their chests. "But… is that really that bad?"

 

"What, you punching Blaine?"

 

The younger man leaned back in order to give him a pointed look. "You know what I mean."

 

"Well, I guess everyone was bound to find out eventually. I mean, we never planned on keeping it secret forever."

 

"So… You're saying everyone will know you're mine now?"

 

Ryan smiled fondly. "That would be a yes."

 

"Good," Michael decided, arms wrapping tighter around Ryan, a matching smile on his face.

 


End file.
